Lewis Black Date

The hubby enjoys Lewis Black. When we were dating, I gave him some Lewis Black cds for the long weekend car trips he took to see me. When I heard Lewis Black was not only coming here but was playing the Peabody Opera House, I knew I had a stellar Christmas gift on my hands. Not only is my husband impossible to buy for, he is also very difficult to surprise. That's more me, though. I just am unable to not tell him things.

This year, however, he was so busy with work and work-related travel that I was able to keep my big mouth shut. I figured one more thing on his mind would only add to the stress, so I wrote out a Christmas card for him. Work would slow down around Christmas and then he'd have over a month afterwards to know the show was coming. The card said that he had two tickets to see Lewis Black, the date, and the venue. I stuck it under the tree wrapped in a little festive box.

Because I can't just hand him a card.

He seemed happy and surprised with his Christmas gift when he opened it. Good job, Me!

Finally, the Friday night came. We left 2 hours early, grabbed some food at Sonic, and started the drive downtown. Traffic was horrible. There was a stalled truck, and when the hubby flipped on the radio, guess who was playing in town next door at exactly the same time as Lewis Black? The St. Louis Blues hockey team. Yeah.

We could have jogged to downtown faster.

Anyway, we managed to find the opera house, which sits next to Union Station and Scottrade Center. Then, we got to scour the land for parking. Did I mention it was raining?

We found a parking garage. I rooted around fruitlessly by my feet in the car for the umbrella. You  know, where the umbrella is unless my husband has taken it somewhere else. My husband didn't say anything. *IMPORTANT FOR LATER*

Then, we got out of the car and walked like mall walkers in the moderately falling rain. The streets were full of people going to Lewis Black and to the Blues game. The rain was more annoying then anything else. We made it into the opera house 2 minutes before the show was supposed to start.

The Peabody Opera House recently reopened in downtown St. Louis. We'd never been but had been wanting to check it out. It is a beautiful venue with a simple, memorable layout once you're familiar with it. Not entirely unlike the Fox Theater. Lots of good seats and stunning details.

Lewis Black and his opening act were, of course, hilarious. He's as quick and well-spoken as you'd expect. In person, he comes across so much warmer and has a sort of kind, old man quality that I hadn't really recognized before. The audience was encouraging and laughed loudly and often. When, during one of his little rants, he actually broke the microphone stand, his reaction and ours was so funny that I think for a few moments we all just lost our minds in some wonderful, crazy, perfect way.

The show ended after 11, which for us, is like so late we can barely function. When exactly we become "if it's after 3 pm, we can't do it" people is beyond me. If we'd been more awake, and if about a thousand other people weren't thinking the same thing, we might have stayed after the show since Lewis Black comes out and signs autographs afterwards. Since we were just trying to stay awake at that point, the hubby and I headed out.

In the pouring rain.

The torrential rain.

The rainy rainy rain.

The not "frustrating" rain. The "WOW" rain.

It didn't matter how fast we walked. We were soaked by the time we got to the car. Really, by the time we got 4 steps outside the opera house. However many blocks later, yeah, we were soaked. To the bones. I'm pretty sure even my internal organs had gotten good and clean from the rain water.

As romantic as it sounds, walking with your loved one in sheets and sheets of rain IS NOT ROMANTIC. It is cold and uncomfortable and heavy and you can't see through your hair or your glasses and your shoes are all slooshy on the insides and it IS NOT ROMANTIC.

We finally made it to the parking garage. When we got in the car, my husband said, "Even if we'd brought the umbrella, I don't think it would have helped because it was raining so hard."

I'm pretty sure this was meant to be comforting.

To which I said, "I don't know. Probably would have helped. We should have brought that. Next time, for sure."

He then says, "Why didn't you bring it?"

Says the man who has it for work. I said, "Well, I don't know where you put it and it isn't over here."

"Yes, it is," he says. 

I laugh and say, "Um, no. It's not. I looked for it all around on the floor when we got here. Didn't you see me do that before we got out of the car."

He paused. Then said, "You know you're sitting on it, right?"

...

I gave him an icy look and said, "No, I am not." Then I made the mistake of reaching my hand back, and yep. I HAD BEEN SITTING ON THE UMBRELLA THE ENTIRE TIME IN THE CAR. How I did not feel that for the entire drive is beyond me. And possibly lots of drives prior to this. How long had I been sitting on that damn umbrella? Months?

Incredulous, I said, "WHY DID YOU TELL ME THAT? THIS IS ONE OF THOSE THINGS YOU SHOULD HAVE NOT TOLD ME." Because now we're sitting, in the car, soaked. With a lovely dry umbrella padding my ass.

Then, my husband asked, "Did you think the woman next to you was a prostitute? I mean, she was, right?"

And we forgot all about the umbrella and started talking about the couple sitting next to us at the show.

I love this man. I never need worry we'll run out of things to talk about.